How Are The Mighty Fallen
by romanceisdead69
Summary: What would you give up for the person you love?...Faced with an impossible choice, Asami discovers just how much he's willing to lose.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, **

**as you can tell from the title I was in a biblical kind of mood :-) Old testament though so that means *angst* mwahahahahahaha**

**Hope you enjoy this, it seems a lot more sad than I thought when I sketched it out :/ but yeah, please enjoy. It isn't how it seems from this chapter that's all I'll say. **

**Thank you for all reads, faves, follows and reviews on my work xxx sorry for any mistakes, I don't own viewfinder. **

**Warnings: Swearing, Violence. (I have NO idea about drugs and crap like that so literally took the countries mentioned from movies - blame Hollywood! :P)**

**}xXx{**

Derby dress shoes costing probably more than the very land they walk on step into the cold, spacious warehouse. Footsteps equally measured cut into the silence with every new and decisive clip and clop of bespoke, quality materials. Fitting their wearer and the prestige of his status perfectly.

The immaculately suited Asami Ryuichi casually drops his half smoked cigarette to the ground as he walks, the last of the tobacco rich smoke expelling from his full, sinful lips in a long stream. Golden eyes casting around and seeing his business associate for the night, Yamamoto Mifune. Waiting.

He sees the man's face turn up with a small smile of recognition, the two having been dealing back and forth for years according to how well the goods are fairing here and there and adjusting where needed so they had both profited. An amicable and casual partnership that had suited the two territorial, proud men.

He, Kirishima and Suoh finally reach the rooms centre, the two black market dealers acknowledging each other with a curt nod. The couple of guards accompanying each of the men more of a formality than anything after all these years.

"Yamamoto, evening. How's things?"

"Asami…" He sighs. "Never better. You?"

The man also answers in the positive, his hands withdrawing to his trouser pockets as his body takes on a more relaxed pose. As does his Yokohama based counterpart and honestly Asami is surprised so see the man looking so well, knowing the quite significant trouble that had cropped up recently for him after his first foray into the drug trafficking business. Drugs being generally much, much messier and more difficult to deal with than guns anyway.

Asami had shaken his head in exasperation as he read about the sheer nonsense the man had gotten into with not only the Columbians and Peruvians but also the Mexican cartel as well. The trouble though seemingly not making it to Japan yet _and that_, is why Asami is here.

"I see you've still got your limbs intact. All your fingers accounted for? I'd hate to say it but the drug running business really doesn't suit you…"

Yamamoto laughs bitterly at that, he should have known that episode wouldn't have gotten past his old friend, the man having eyes and ears everywhere, _though_, it seems that he hasn't heard the latest. His wife and young daughter being taken after an armed cell for the Mexican cartel. _Tonatiuh_. Had broken into their house, their home. Mere hours ago. Since then he's exhausted every avenue, begged for the millions of yen, smuggling routes and power from acquaintances and enemies alike to beat these bastards into the ground, destroy and conquer and rip them apart limb from limb as nothing. Nothing can console Yamamoto now.

Asami is his last hope.

He's come up utterly empty, these bastards he admits _rather begrudgingly_ are just in a different league altogether and he hadn't any idea where to turn. Doesn't even know anyone who even belongs in that league. Except one. One who he happens to know that _will never,_ ever agree to disrupt the careful balance he maintains over much of the worlds black-market to help Yamamoto get even with the cartel. Yes he would take on an organisation or two after considerable planning and strategising with his endless teams of tactical specialists - but Yamamoto hasn't got time. And he certainly hasn't got the sense.

Nope.

Yamamoto thinks fuck that, these bastards made their choice when they fucked with what's his and he needs to fight back, now. Not reach an agreement, not wait for days while Asami and he try to reach a peaceful truce through negotiation when his family could be killed any moment but rather, obliterate these fuckers completely. Retaliation and vengeance in it's purest form.

The man nods imperceptibly, Asami's attention roused.

Suddenly and as if simply materialising from the shadows, more men flood out of the darkness silently, Asami and his_ two_ men vastly out numbered and his eyebrows raise just slightly, a little curious at the turn of events.

"I'm sorry, old friend. But until I get what I want, no one's leaving."

Asami turns his head back to Yamamoto, hands still in his slacks and observing the man with a polite interest. unaffected. He knows he can take these men if necessary, yes they have more bullets, but it _does not_ mean they have the skill. He knows they don't.

"Oh?" The golden eyed man says, weight shifting slightly more onto one foot and regarding the man before him cooly. Kirishima and Suoh as vigilant and unmovable as always. "_And_, what do you want?"

"Japan."

Asami had up until that point been listening with only half an ear but now he smirks at the word that had been so urgently uttered. The man who can't even handle several small drug running families wants the control of a whole country's black-market? The king pin decides to indulge his friend so he questions further, noting to himself to thank Akihito later for putting him in such a good mood this morning. His inflection though, _or lack thereof_ portrays his scepticism perfectly.

"You want, Japan?"

"You heard me."

"Well that's a tall order. What makes you think I'll hand it over when you've proven both your control and judgement to be rather lacking? They're not qualities one needs to turn a good profit, I assure you."

"Don't _fuck_ with me Asami-"

Yamamoto looks at Asami with tense, hollowed eyes, his jaw betraying the obvious inner turmoil taking place within that once brilliant mind. It's now or never, no going back. He can finally obtain everything now he knows Asami's one true weakness, revel in how serendipitous the discovery had been and just a few short hours ago. He looks back to the dozens of lowlife's he had brought with him, the men all armed to the teeth and it helps calm him, it helps Yamamoto assure himself that he's doing the right thing. That he can do this after all.

"Bring the kid out."

There's some activity amongst the small army and to the left of the room, the message being relayed between them before footsteps withdraw only to return moments later. Clearly dragging something along with them. It's Asami now who's jaw clenches, as do the fists in his pant pockets.

_What's this fucker doing? _

Two guys round the corner, appearing from behind a stack of supposed coffee crates from South America and the breath in Asami's lungs catch, the air dissipating completely as if caught in a vacuum as his disbelieving eyes take in the sight. His face paling and the crime lord far too shocked to catch his mens' appalled reactions as they also take in the scene.

_Akihito. _

It's his Akihito being dragged along the floor, unconscious. And bleeding. That noise he had heard which sounded so much like a dead weight, the image before him such an unwelcome one. An impossible one. The boy has two bullet wounds visible through the stained, encrusted denim of his jeans. Both to the legs and what Asami can only assume was to stop the photographer from fleeing a scene of a grizzly kidnapping. One wound, Asami can tell is just a flesh wound, the other though. The other is bleeding steadily, obviously having caught an artery and some time ago. Akihito is already deathly pale, his lips on the edge of blue.

He wills the boy to open his eyes, to give him a sign. Anything. But he doesn't.

He can't even tell if Akihito is breathing or not.

"Yes. Perhaps I should explain, as we are _clearly_ running out of time. When I say Japan, I mean everything _you hold within it_, I want _your empire_. Sign it all over to me rightfully _now without a fuss_ and you can be on your way along with the boy here."

Asami's eyes narrow to slits, his body vibrating with rage as the anger and cold blooded fury threatens to break forth as he takes in the familiar but broken, pitiful form on the floor. His legs full of holes. He tells himself to calm, to think and asks himself, how did Yamamoto even find out about Akihito.

"Time's running out Asami,_ tick tock_…what's his life worth to you? I could kill him right here y'know, although…_already it's close-!"_

_Fuck-!_

Asami almost exclaims as Yamamoto whips out his gun and fires upon Akihito again suddenly and without warning, causing Akihito to wake with eyes wide and a blood curdling scream, his right thigh so viciously torn into by the bullet burning it feels as if it's on fire. He takes gasping breaths, ones that come out shallow, whimpered and choked as he lays on the cold ground marred by so much of his own blood, warm against his face. Tears stream from his unseeing eyes both due to the relentless throb and the icy cold spears of pain shooting through his legs.

He feels himself growing weaker. Shock making his blood run cold as shivers wrack his body, muscles protesting the lack of blood and oxygen.

What the hell had happened? He was on his way home from a shoot when-something, some men. He was running, blinding pain and then darkness. The same darkness that's calling him to it so sweetly, so temptingly now.

He wishes Asami where here, he wishes he was at home with him now. Could see him now. He wishes he could at least say goodbye.

He heaves a tiny, broken sob as he passes out again. The room silent and observing.

"I reckon you've got thirty minutes, tops. To get him to a hospital. Better make up your mind, _old friend."_

The man. Asami. Stands there, seething yet for once unprepared. Dare he say shocked. How had Yamamoto pulled this off, why had it come to this? This was supposed to be an amicable and simple trade of information, Yamamoto being his associate for years to the point they had built an understanding between them. He had asked Asami to come by tonight to provide advice, to rid himself of the stolen cargo and deal with his newly made enemies using his friend's power. It was advice Asami was happy to provide, as a friend.

Now he wants to blow this friend's fucking head off.

This should be laughable, unheard of, someone not only daring to challenge Asami on his own turf but to offer him an ultimatum as well. He could draw his gun, vastly outnumbered so he knows it'll be difficult, but he can fight none the less. He has his two best men.

He falters.

Akihito, _damn him for being here._ Damn Yamamoto for bringing him.

Asami _knows_ he shouldn't matter, not some kid. Not in the scheme of things and not compared to what this alternative is which will be Asami losing everything. The boy is a variable, one that stacks the odds so steeply against him. It's not a position he ever saw himself being in, before Akihito. It's absurd, ludicrous. Asami would normally never even entertain such a thing, normally. His empire for a mere lover. A fuck. He would laugh it off before he ended the rat's miserable little lives, lover be damned but. But here he is -

He _is_ running out of time. No matter how he looks at it, the situation. The facts remain. Akihito is running out of time.

He looks again at Akihito, the small, crumpled figure on the floor and his heart aches for him. They boy had not deserved to be dragged into it again. Into the underworld.

How many times can he let this happen? How is it not in Asami's power to protect him?

_'__Only I can touch you'_

How many times had he said that, yet all they are in the end are clearly, empty words. Proven time and again.

Maybe.

Maybe it is better, kinder. Wiser if Asami does let him die? Here. Now. To let him slip away like this? Perhaps it's better for the both of them. If he lets Akihito go. In the long run.

But fuck.

_Fuck it all. _

Even as Asami's pragmatic, cold and steely mind whispers that he _should _just walk away, should cut his ties with this moment and never look back another part of him screams _no_. Even as he damns himself for this weakness, this paralysing doubt which is only to be found because of Akihito, as are many other things that the boy inspired in him that he loathes _but also holds so very dear_ thanks to that adorable little shit. That knowing, demanding sense that is certain that without Akihito in his life -

Without Akihito in his life.

No. It's not something Asami will accept. Won't even consider.

Hadn't he already decided what Akihito was worth? Hadn't he already fought for the foolish, beautifully endearing photographer again and again with out reason and hadn't it all been worth it?

_Yes._

He knows it has, he had known it since that day. That night on the roof of Sion when Akihito had looked him straight in the eye and made his heart race like no other.

He knows he's been caught ever since.

But the silence stretches on, Asami's eyes the only thing betraying just what is happening beneath his cool exterior and Kirishima and Suoh know better than to interrupt, they had received their own shock in seeing what the traitorous Yamamoto had done to an innocent. What he was trying to gain by monopolising a hold on Japan by taking advantage of the only visible chink in the otherwise impenetrable armour. Like Saint George, his spear seeking the one vulnerable scale that lay over the mighty Dragon's heart.

They faithfully await their boss's decision, only having to suffer a few more painful seconds until they get it as finally and with determination as solid as the gaze he levels at Yamamoto, he swallows his pride as Asami Ryuichi, as until now sole ruler of Japan's underworld and relents his power, completely and utterly to Yamamoto Mifune.

His hard earned, fought and won image and reputation shattered in a few mere moments, saving face no longer an option for he. Asami Ryuichi is finally laid bare. A sacrifice made for his Akihito.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all,**

**Yeah I'm still on holiday but then the bunnies came a' calling ;) **

**Thank you for the reviews to this story and for reading! I had anticipated the reaction to this would be luke warm so thanks very much :D**

**Sorry for any mistakes! Characters aren't mine yada yada like they would be ;P**

**Warnings: Yaoi! **

**}xXx{**

There's a grumble from the bed and minute shifting, the sheets rustling just ever so as Akihito attempts to reach up a hand to scratch his itchy chest, the sticky pads monitoring his breathing and heart rate irritating his skin and his body aching to stretch after such a long, deep slumber. The hand though, doesn't make it far and only manages to tug at the I.V line, making the boy croak out a yelp and crack an eye open in confusion.

The room is an off-white, with the generic touches one would expect from a public municipal hospital with it's watercolour paintings of flowers lining the walls, the standard and well used hospital grade apparatus scattered about his bed has Akihito thinking, the place could do with a thorough cleanse.

With the beeping of his heart monitor oddly soothing, he casts his mind back, trying to clear through the heavy sedative induced fog and remembers sounds, bangs and screams. His screams. His own panicked breaths and palpitating heartbeat in his ears as it grew fainter and fainter.

How the hell did he make it out of this one?

Akihito takes a trembling breath and dares to try and wiggle his toes, praying that he still has command over them after the two, or was it three bullets that had ravaged his legs. Memories of the white hot burst of pain still fresh in his mind. He ignores the discomfort and fierce sense of trepidation though as he takes the plunge, relieved to both see and hear the rustling of the itchy hospital covers ever so slightly over his toes. A tear of sheer elation falling freely and unashamedly.

With that seemingly impossible task out the way Akihito looks around the room with as much urgency afforded by the drugs in his system that are thankfully numbing both his mind and body nicely. He does see Asami and goes to greet him though aborting the attempt with a small frown upon seeing up close, the normally impeccable crime lord and his less that optimum, unflappable state.

He just looks, very un-Asami.

Akihito can't put his finger on it. It's not the fact the usually impeccably dressed man's jacket, tie and vest are off and hung casually over the back of his chair, no guns in sight. No. Not even that his shirt is rumpled and his sleeves are rolled up or that his hair also seems to have lost most of it's sleek style. No.

It's the hopeless kind of tension laced throughout his shoulders, his body. A bleakness.

He has his fingers interlocked, fingertips marking white indents into his knuckles as he rests his head on them, elbows on knees so he doesn't look like he's noticed Akihito yet at all. He looks - Akihito doesn't know. He just knows he doesn't like it.

"…Asami?"

The man does notice him then and glances upward, the look he levels at Akihito enough to shock him and enough to send him reeling, making the photographer recoil and tug at his I.V again with a cry but of course he doesn't get far and Asami is there in and instant. The man hushes Akihito, offering him a drink and asking him how he feels but even so the boy can't help but be wary. The look Asami had afforded him then was nothing short of cold, naked rage.

It's some time before Akihito dares eye contact again, only when the man's stance has softened. But not by much. Asami still looms over Akihito, those scornful golden irises telling of some dark and barely leashed, murderous intent that if pushed he fears, could be pushed right onto him.

Akihito wants to know what happened, he wants to know if he was the cause - to make it better if he's the one who has done this to Asami and he hates that it scares him to see the man like this. He looks up to Asami with large, beseeching eyes, his tired face telling much of his ordeal but he wants Asami to know, to understand.

_"__I'm sorry. Asami._ You must of come for me again, I. Sorry."

_"__What?"_

That dismissively hissed question, so spiteful and from such a tightly wound Asami sets a shocked Akihito's eyes alight, stinging tears threatening to fall as his throat burns with them. The man's eyes are furious, a fierce scowl lining his brow and he's looking at Akihito in a way he never has before, a look that has the boy for the first time, terrified of Asami and the man he always knew he was. His un-salined hand fiddles with the crisp sheets and he looks away, out of the window and away from Asami.

He knows this was probably the final straw for the prideful crime lord. Poor little Akihito, always needing to be rescued.

"Um, listen. Asami. I don't know why those guys came after me - I, I don't think I've been doing any big stories, in fact I know I haven't - not after that stuff with Sudou and - anyway…I'm sorry you had to do this for me, again."

Akihito stays staring out the window, not wanting to face the eyes he knows are still fixed on him with the same scorn and anger that had been there a moment ago. He doesn't want to know if Asami is finally tired of rescuing this foolish photographer. He's already learned and known since Hong Kong that he was a burden to Asami, the questions is. Why hadn't he done something about it?

Maybe he should, now.

Maybe he should now that Asami has finally grown sick of him after all, just as Akihito knew he would be. Eventually.

"Asami."

He gulps, loudly. Not knowing how to phrase it but certainly knowing he doesn't want to. He wouldn't. If not for that undeniable, palpable disdain that man seems to have for him now. The hatred he can't face. He continues on though, doing what he knows he must for he doesn't think he has the strength to hear this order of excecution from Asami, so he says them first. Voice thick though with grief which has his words coming out choked, nothing but a tear stained whisper.

"It's alright y'know, I get it. You, don't have to stay with me anymore. I'm sorry - so, it's ok - it's -"

He quiets when hands pulls his face around urgently but oh so gently, domineering lips finding his with a tender yet hungry force as a tiny, surprised gasp allows entry for Asami's tongue, teasing and scorching wherever it touch and it pains Akihito that Asami dare be this tender, that he dare to kiss him like this now to drag this cruel game of cat and mouse out just a little longer, for his amusement.

They break apart and Asami lingers above him, the mans eyes having taken on a very different sheen altogether but Akihito misses that entirely. His own eyes closing to the confusing, swirling emotion. His ragged breaths and racing heart.

"Akihito. I'm not angry at you, how could I be? _I'm furious_ at these bastards who did this to you."

A long silence ensues and the boy blinks, once, twice and finally braves looking back at the man - his hackles rising immediately as he receives a tiny (and yes a little bit welcome) smirk. Trust Asami to get off on tears.

He huffs and turns his face to the side again with a scowl, resolutely ignoring Asami even as he feels fingers play soothingly over his skin, his cheeks and lips. Asami revelling in the returning warmth and colour.

His Akihito. So alive. Could he have really let someone snuff it out?

"Asami, are you ok?"

"Yes. Why?"

I dunno, you look, uh. Did you have to fight the guys who shot me?"

"Hn, something like that."

"You really don't have to stay y'know-"

"Worry more about yourself, kozou. Get some rest."

"Mmn, I feel like I could sleep for a week."

Akihito manages to at least roll his shoulders out before trying to shift over in his bed so he can lie closer to Asami, the man also relaxing in his chair it seems to catch a little rest of his own. The damn hospital bed no where near big enough for two people. The boy yawns, a small smile for his lover before his eyes glisten with unshed tears. Akihito remembering something about his ordeal triggered as he feels himself drifting back into nothingness.

"…Asami. You know - when I got shot, the last time I think. I…I wanted to see you. I wanted-if. If it was only to say goodbye, y'know?"

He shifts awkwardly, eyelashes fluttering as he fights the sedatives and pain relief trying to drag him into unconsciousness. His cheeks flushing crimson though with the rush of feeling for this man.

"…Um…I don't regret much, don't really see the point because if there's something wrong you should just sort it out, right? But uhhhh…"

Upon only receiving a patient yet unrelenting stare in response Akihito takes a breath, continuing with what he wants - needs to say. Before he doesn't have the balls to say it anymore.

"But I just think that, with us. W-we enjoy pissing each other off so much that it kind of. We, well, I - lie to myself. _And to you_ but, Asami…"

Akihito resolutely stares at the ceiling, appreciating the uniformity of the yellowing tiles.

"You. You were the last person I would think about. Do you get that? That, that you were-you were the last -"

He sobs suddenly, covering his face in shame and already hating himself that he can say this much, but can't say the word that would be so normal to anyone else. That word that would open himself up to so much more scorn and mocking from this man. The word that he knows is not meant from them, for what they have.

Asami grabs Akihito's hand, the one not attached to the IV and brings it away from the photographers face so he can offer some rare, rarely needed comfort. He gently and a little awkwardly lifts Akihito's top half off the bed, taking car not to jostle him too much as he holds him close and they stay like that until the young man can't cry anymore and his tears and sobs subside, holding Asami tightly around the neck with his free arm.

He buries his face deep into Asami's shirt collar as the man nuzzles into his hair, planting kisses at his temple, ear and neck before drawing him in even closer. Breathing into the boys ear and whispering an admission of his own.

"I know, Akihito._ Believe me I know." _

He kisses his boy, his forever. Kisses the tears and his breath away completely and Akihito gives as good as he gets, the two of them realising just how caught they are. Hoping the other won't ever let go, even if they aren't quite there in admitting it yet.

Asami's body responds to the kiss like flame to fuel and he feels as usual Akihito's keen moans but he knows now's not the time so he breaks away, settling Akihito back onto the bed and instructs him to sleep. The man taking his own seat at the beds side, keeping watch till morning.

**}xXx{**

The door to the penthouse slams shut, Asami having to shunt it roughly with the overnight bag in his hand while he reaches out a helping hand to support Akihito who is still unsteady on his crutches, but only having the one leg completely out of action still, thankfully.

After twelve nights in hospital Akihito was deemed fit for release, his stitches holding nicely and smoothly meaning he should only be left with minimal scaring, something he had joked to Asami about, girls digging scars. Asami had only looked back knowingly in return.

He sets down the bag in the hall, more concerned with getting Akihito situated without incident on the couch lest he find some other way to injure himself. He steers the boy into the living room avoiding collision into the somehow too small doorways, Akihito luckily for once not putting up much of a fight and making a beeline for the sofa once it's in view, causing Asami to hold back a comment of his own. A comment about how a certain headstrong photographer had point blank refused the offer of a wheelchair and an escort home. No, Akihito had insisted on crutches and was adamant he would be fine - even when Asami had informed him they would be getting a city cab back home.

Akihito had been surprised, the emotion being written clearly on his face and he had thought back at the time spent in the hospital over the past week or so. He hadn't seen Asami's men - once. Asami hadn't taken a phone call whilst at his bed side - once. Had barely even left his bedside for that matter. Even so though the doctor had been waiting so Akihito hadn't pushed the matter and doesn't, not until he's plopped onto the sofa with a sigh and groan much befitting of an ojisan sinking into a hot spring, soothing his aching bones.

His crutches get handed off the a chuckling Asami, the boy only managing to flop back and crack an eye open. Energy depleted.

"So…I didn't really notice at the hospital but, I haven't seen the guys around. Are they off or something?"

Asami pauses in fishing a box of cigarettes from his jacket and looks over his shoulder briefly at Akihito before busying himself once more with his breast pocket. Only speaking again when he's successfully retrieved and lit a Dunhill.

"You'll see them soon enough."

He takes a deep drag on the cigarette, a good centimetre or two fizzling and burning away rapidly as he sucks the nicotine and tar in deep, tapping the ash and exhaling a long breath. Visibly relaxing.

"You should get some rest before dinner."

And with that the conversation is over, the man stubbing out his cigarette and scooping up an alarmed Akihito from the couch only to dump him onto the bed, not pausing before swooping in to steal the poor photographers clothes away. Settling him in under the duvet until a pointed look and pout draws him back again.

Asami nips the plump bottom lip and plays his tongue along the slackening mouth, Akihito also having suffered through the twelve nights without Asami touching him, for once the man being somewhat considerate of his state. The man settles beside Akihito on the bed, his right side sneaking under the covers seamlessly to caress Akihito's awaiting body as he takes those lips finally to claim them in a long, dirty kiss. One that had Akihito writhing his hips and forces small moans to spill forth. It's been far too long.

"Asami nh-a-!"

The hand below the covers flicks and teases Akihito's rosy pink nipples into hardness, pressing and pulling at them until he arches up and Asami has to press him back down again with a wicked chuckle, it wouldn't do to have Akihito rip his stitches now, would it?

He takes he hint and runs his finger tips downward to the light scattering of hair at Akihito's navel, stroking downward until his palm meets with the warm, moist head of Akihito's cock. A tongue and teeth, lapping and biting at his neck.

"O-ah-!"

He envelopes it with exquisite heat, his large hand pumping his Akihito's dick with long, firm and twisting strokes. squeezing and pulling back to tease the head with a thumb at the slit, finger tips playing around the defined head making the rich white Egyptian cotton duvet fan up and down obscenely, making Akihito blush with embarrassment.

Akihito cries out at the sensation and exhilarating lewdness of the act, trying to keep his hips and bandaged legs as still as possible as to not cause anymore damage but he finds it somehow adds to the pleasure, surrendering and letting Asami see to his every need. He seeks out the mans lips again, tongue fucking him and not caring about the trail of saliva that leaks from his lips (that like his thighs) lay wide open, welcoming his lover all the way and entwining his fingers through Asami's hair. Gripping it tight enough to hurt.

"A-Asami, ye-yes!"

He comes with a dizzying scream under the duvet with Asami pressing him down once more, the man reaching to the side for some tissue to clean Akihito up with before settling him back under the duvet to sleep. It taking no time at all for the young man to catch his breath and calm, consciousness already fading fast even as he tries to fight it.

"Asami, wha-'bout you?…"

The man only smirks and ruffles the hazel tuft of hair peeping out from the covers, telling Akihito to sleep again before sweeping out the room leaving it dark and peaceful and leaving Akihito still in blissful ignorance of the situation he's just been landed in.

The two may not be able to pay the bills for the penthouse let alone buy food, pay transport costs and over regular living costs from now on, Yamamoto being at least generous in his view to let Asami keep his apartment and private cars. It will take a few phone calls to try and access his overseas accounts, no longer having any clout will mean things are going to take longer to get done and although he has all the paper work he needs here in the study, Yamamoto could easily have accessed everything already now Kirishima has been signed over to his employ.

Either way though he will look towards revenge, of course. For now he will maintain his home, his one last stronghold with new locks, security system which yes will pretty much blow the entirety of the savings in his secret rooms' safe. He'll work on getting cash, fast. Keeping up appearances for all, especially the one sleeping soundly in the next room and lastly. He'll send word out to the three cartel families after Yamamoto, building rapport through the hatred of a common enemy.

That's if they don't laugh in Asami's face first, that is.

He sighs, heading to the kitchen to pour a stiff drink, very much needing it and wondering why he doesn't actually feel worse. Like one knows one should after loosing a multi billion ¥ organisation in the blink of an eye. Having signed it over for the sake of some snot-nosed kid.

That's right, for some punk. A nosy, naive, pain in the ass, troublesome, pure hearted and adorable, punk.

He sighs again and pours another drink, it's going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello,**

**I wrote this while I had a migraine (still do : /...) so I hope it makes sense and there aren't too many mistakes because I can barely see to check it! **

**I don't own the VF characters, OC's are mine, all mine...**

**Warnings: Swearing, Yaoi. **

**}xXx{**

Asami looks yet again over his shoulder from where he's sat alone in the living room, on the phone with a contact in the U.S and chain smoking. Ashtray already heaving with cigarette butts and a fresh whisky to the side of him in a tumbler, the man having made his way through most of the bottle already. He knocks the ash and takes a deep drag, placing a thumb to his brow in irritation. Yep, everything is taking too damn long today.

"…Well, you heard wrong. _Just give me their damned details already."_

"Naa man I'm pretty sure I heard right, 'Asami Ryuichi_ the one and only_, stepped down as resident kingpin of Japan and handed everything over to some small time crook out of Yokohama.' If that's not the case why have I already had a call from your _former _secretary on his behalf, huh?"

Asami damns Kirishima's unyielding sense of flawless professionalism. Of course he would've already made steps in serving his new employer perfectly. The man growls, deciding to try another approach as the blunt demands haven't got him anywhere yet. He coughs slightly, his English coming out less clipped as he tries for polite. Even if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

"Look, it would really help me out if you could give me the numbers. A lot."

Yep. A really bad taste.

There's a long breath on the end of the line, the cop, Jarrell - having second thoughts. He hadn't passed on the contacts to 'glasses' after finding out why he had wanted them either, the man being frank and up front about his distaste of the situation when he had explained just why he was forced to call and ask for a direct line to the cartel heads seconds' - A direct line into the groups for the same exact person who had just royally fucked them off by scamming them out of tens of thousands of dollars. He knows about the wife and kid, the sad thing being that it's more than likely too late for them already. The man should have thought a little more before trying to hit the big leagues.

Jarrell though, suspects the call from Asami's former second earlier may have been more of a round about way to alert him to the imminent threat of a borderline nut job having just inherited, by force, an entire black market organisation and all the arsenal and clout that go along with it. It's a threat that if left unchecked, may destroy a lot more than a few men, it's one that has been levelled onto the already delicate and precarious balance between crime syndicates the world over, dangerous and merciless organisations and it threatens entire countries - the ones where corruption runs deep within government and those peoples ties to the worldwide black-market trade. It will fuck a lot of things up for a lot of people.

The man mulls it over. Peru, Colombia, Mexico - Japan. The routes that are already being affected into Asia, the U.S. Money being withheld, deals going sour. And his job as an undercover agent is to make sure these deals do happen. To track the money, the merchandise from start to finish and take down the necessary targets from there, but it runs deep. Too deep. It not in the governments interest to take them all down, the wide spread, lucrative ones. The ones that line their pockets. But this guy. This fucker Yamamoto, threatens to throw everything for a loop.

He sees it in his best interest to give_ Asami_ the numbers, the cool, level headed business man who would hopefully strike a deal with the cartel and once again seize control. Regain order before the shit really hits the fan.

"Aight, I'll give you access to these guys, man…" He sighs. "I guess I owe you that much and _especially_ if this dog Yamamoto is as unstable as you say."

"That's more than enough. Thanks." Asami breathes out, not realising that he hadn't actually done so for several minutes. He sets down his cigarette as he jots the international cell numbers down onto the pad he had been scrawling notes down onto, checking over his shoulder once more to ensure the wily little photographer hasn't tried to sneak out of the bedroom again while he wasn't looking.

With these clear lines into the organisations at least Asami will be able to do what he does best, plant the seed of doubt, desire and greed - awakening those things within people. Men. That will aid only him in the long run, people being generally easy to manipulate, once you know how. And he knows Yamamoto.

He just hopes that he can get that chance though before getting dismissed as a haggard, tired old has-been. A fool.

He hangs up the line, taking a celebratory swig and drag before setting the paperwork in the study. Keeping it out of view. As he's exiting he hears the toilet flush, tutting at the boy's inability to stay still or ask for help when he needs it. He rounds the corner into the bedroom, catching Akihito hobbling out of the bathroom with his crutches and flashing Asami a cheeky grin so the man decides to just stand back and enjoy the show, Akihito hobbling all the way past him and leaving to room so he follows of course - to the kitchen.

"Ah! I am so hungry! I feel like I haven't eaten for days, you want something? I can do us eggs, sausages and some toast and-"

"I think you should go back to bed, I'll make you something."

"Eh?-No way! Look I'm fine, it's better if I'm up and about. Isn't that what the doctor said?"

Asami crosses his arms, a reluctant smile dancing on the edge of his lips.

"No, _it's not."_

But Akihito just snorts and takes himself to the fridge, he had done enough thinking and wallowing in the hospital. More than enough. He's just happy to be home, happy that Asami seems to be taking this time away from his important work to spend with him and he doesn't want to spend it sleeping or staring at the dark ceiling of the bedroom. He's going to make breakfast, shower and call his job to make sure he can still go back in a few days like he had planned.

He prepares breakfast, idly chatting away to Asami who answers with grunts of assent, disappearing some time after to his study until the food is ready. They eat in relative silence and Akihito gets help in packing away the dishes, Asami having to do the lifting and bending while Akihito stands back and blushes profusely at the apparent helplessness he's exuding. Sipping his sweetened tea.

"I'll be going out for a few hours Akihito, I trust you'll behave yourself…"

The photographer nods, mind of course already working to the contrary after all, he has big plans for today. He glances up from his cup a little too late to school his features, _damn_ - he knows Asami knows that look. Mischief.

**}xXx{**

_"__Saikou! You're number one! OK! - One. More. Time!-"_

_"__Ichi!" _

Akihito raises his legs up by the knee, feet flat on the floor and flat on his back on the living room rug - no yoga mat to hand as he struggles his way through the ten minute work out for pregnant women he had found on the health channel, determined to get back up to full strength as fast as possible.

_"__Ni!"_

He swears, sweat beading at his temples as he bites his lip, feeling like the muscles in his legs are tearing with the tightness of the stitches as he raises up his feet from the floor by an inch, two inches, the effort of it making him cry out in pain but he doesn't drop them, only fists the rug in his hands as he holds the pose. Stomach muscles working like they haven't in weeks.

_"__San!"_

Akihito scrunches his eyes shut, just two more - two more to go as his recovering muscles flutter with the effort. His more damaged leg faltering ever so slightly.

"_Yon! Gambattene! Almost there!" _

A litany of '_fuck, fuck, fuck'_ spills from his lips, the slow count nothing but torture as the infuriatingly cheerful girls on screen bob their legs up and down to the Jpop tune playing in the background. Fucking show offs. He tugs the rug even harder and draws his knees further into his chest in retaliation, the result a resounding pop as his weakened joints protests at the treatment.

_"__Go! Eh?! Yatta-! Sugoi! Sugoooooo-!"_

"Fuck…the fuck….off." Akihito silences the overly high pitched voices with the press of a button and huffs as he lays listless and panting on the rug, feeling like he's just gone five rounds with Asami. But unfortunately with none of the pleasant ache in his ass and groin, no. The remote control for the T.V gets chucked somewhere to his right, the photographer rolling over so he can use the sofa to hoik himself up and grab his crutches, deciding to go take a long bath before the land baron gets home to discover that Akihito's been working out in the living room like some bored housewife.

Across the city Asami isn't fairing much better, the man more crippled in the metaphorical sense as his bank manager stares down his nose at him, the one he knows as Asami Ryuichi. The one and only. He had arrived not twenty minutes ago, coming through the double doors with none of the usual fanfare, without the goons that usual accompany him (the ones that are probably armed to the teeth and usually intimidate everyone else out of the bank.) Nope, today was different and instead he had taken a ticket from the machine, seated himself without a word and had patiently waited to be seen in order to ask to see the head of the branch himself. It was only when the manager had been called over by the teller that the man even knew Asami was in the building. Most peculiar indeed.

"So, Asami-san. You really wish to withdraw the _entire amount_? From the Swiss account? Do you have any idea the implications of moving that much money from over seas in one hit?"

"I do, I also know you have adequate way's of, _disguising it. You've done it before.."_

The bank managers feathers are getting more and more ruffled the further this conversation is going on. It sounds like one of _Solar Bank's_ biggest accounts wants to take their money and run, and as a man with a large share in said bank. He can't let that happen. He coughs slightly, shifting in his seat and typing some nonsense into his computer as he tries to come up with the next strategy, sighing and shaking his head with a what he hopes is convincing disappointment.

"Asami-san, I'm so sorry but please understand. You are asking me to move millions of yen into the country in order to withdraw it - in cash. It will take me weeks upon weeks after filtering it through the system. It's just not feasible. For now please take my suggestion, withdraw from one of your usual accounts and I will see what I can do…"

_"__That won't do Kimura." _ The man says darkly. "I want my money. Today. Do you really want to piss me off?"

Asami lights a cigarette, leaving the little weasel to think up more excuses as they sit in his garishly over-furnished office. The fact that he had given up his cards and rights to all but one of the accounts to Yamamoto via Kirishima goes unsaid as he stubbornly stares the man down, not a crack visible in the façade he's presenting. He debates calling Kirishima, or at least pretend to, to put forward his point more effectively although in this quiet office it's more than likely Kimura will be able to hear everything so Asami decides to stub out his cigarette instead, withdrawing his phone to send a text. Though not to Kirishima, to Akihito.

_'__Should I pick up anything for dinner?' _

He lets his eyes flicker back up to the man, a false tell to make Kimura think he's being blacklisted to Asami's goons and the former kingpin lets him think as much. Asami takes his time in locking his phone and slipping it back into his breast pocket, the subtle beep of the undoubtedly excited return text from Akihito giving the impression Asami's order has been acknowledged and that his car has arrived back outside.

"You've got until tomorrow Kimura, Or I'll be forced to have my men pay you, and your wife, a visit."

He gets up from his seat, drawing to his full hight as he brushes off his jacket. Letting the man cower as he sweeps out of the room.

**}xXx{**

Akihito chortles at the stupid game show he's watching, a dozen or so men lined up blind folded and forced to taste mystery ingredients such as red hot chillies and smelly blue cheese. The photographer finding it hilarious that some people would do practically anything for money.

He had gotten addicted to the show during his time in hospital, twelve whole days with nothing to do but eat, sleep and indulge in day-time T.V. Asami having been strangely quiet the whole time which made Akihito tense and on edge, the television a good way to distract him from his lovers weird moods.

His phone beeps again from where it lay next to him on the sofa, with what he assumes is a return text from Asami. But it's not.

.

_'__Is it true? FL'_

_._

Akihito frowns down at his phone, beers set already on the table while he waits for Asami to get home with the Sushi he had demanded for dinner. The photographer relaxes back into the sofa again, his legs resting up on several cushions and elevated to relieve the ache a little as he replies to the mystery text from a private number. Is what true? And who's FL?

.

_'__Dude sorry, I think _

_you've got the wrong number…'_

_._

It's only a couple of seconds before his phone beeps again though and he tuts, setting down the remote control so he can read the new message.

.

_'__Don't be such a simpleton Akihito. _

_It's Fei Long. Is it true about Asami?'_

_._

Upon gasping and looking on disbelievingly at the words before him, Akihito fails to process anything other than _Fei Long._ The name not being one he had ever really expected to hear or see ever again, let alone have the man message him like this. He had changed his E-mail account for a reason. And how did he even get his number?

Uh, he thinks. _Tao. _

With shaking hands he stares at the screen, now having finally seen the rest of the message and it worrying him more than he would have ever thought. Asami. What's happened to Asami? Isn't he on his way home right now? In his haste he foregoes the logical step of just calling the man or even doubting the texts validity, instead feverishly typing out his panic. Waiting with bated breath for a reply which takes all too long to come.

.

_'__I'm talking about Asami surrendering his _

_entire empire to a lowly drug dealer because _

_you had been used as a bargaining tool, _

_I had heard several days ago but in truth _

_had laughed it off until now. _

_It seems it's true. Is it?'_

_._

Akihito forgets how to breathe, staring at the message with wide, stricken eyes and he shakes his head in denial trying to tell himself that no, it can't be. Not the fact that Asami was in the state he was in at the hospital, not the reason why he's been home all this time and Akihito hadn't seen any of his men. Not the fact they had taken a simple cab back from the hospital themselves, not a goon in sight. Not even that the phone hasn't rung once. That _Asami's_ phone hasn't rung once. No, even for all that, it can't be.

He goes to type another desperate reply but the sound of rattling keys at the front door stills his movements and he panics, still too shocked at the out of the blue message to really react at this point. He's just numb, not able to comprehend that Asami could ever not be at the very top of Japan's underworld. It's Asami. It's stupid. He shakes his head at least, deciding for now that he should just relax, that it might be Fei Long just pulling his gammy leg, or it might not even be Fei Long at all. No, he takes a long shuddering breath and tries to relax back into the sofa, scooping up the remote again as the man himself comes into view carrying a large wrapped platter of Sushi. Akihito's appetite though, mysteriously evaporated.

"O-" He swallows and tries again. "Okaeri…"

Asami sets down the Sushi on the coffee table, removing his coat and jacket before he looks at Akihito, concern playing over his features.

"You alright? You look pale."

The photographer shrugs it off and tells Asami it's just tiredness, the man humming in response and leaning down for a kiss but Akihito finding it hard to return it what with the suffocating pressure in his chest and dryness in his mouth. Asami senses the tension in Akihito and pulls away, his eyes as always seeking to read the truth hidden in those hazel eyes but Akihito just heaves out a long shuddering sigh, slipping down further into the sofa and feigning a yawn like he's just feeling un well and he isn't trying to shrink away from that piercing gaze. Like he isn't doubting Asami.

He blinks up lazily at the man as he finally withdraws with a hand ruffling his hair, Asami going to get changed and have a quick shower before dinner and the boy offers to get some pickled vegetables and condiments from the kitchen on his crutches, though pausing when he sets them down on the coffee table. Biting his lip in deliberation before reaching a decision and doubling back to the bedroom, the water already running in the shower room. He goes into the master bedroom, spotting Asami's clothes and his personal effects on the bed side table as usual. His watch, his mobile phone.

With a nervous gulp he quickly darts past the bathroom door as stealthily as he can whilst on his crutches, trying to avoid bumping into any furniture or the walls so he can scoop up the phone. He doesn't want to do this, open this can of worms by asking Asami, fearing the man would either get angry or tell him it's none of his business. Instead he'll quickly call Kirishima, just a few words is all it's going to need to confirm that yes, it's Fei Long yanking his chain or that it's not Fei Long at all. Just a few words.

But Akihito freezes upon seeing Asami's call history. Trying to quell the growing panic rising within him as he sees that yes, for over two weeks now there hasn't been a single incoming or outgoing call to or from anyone at Asami's work. That the man has only made one call at all since Akihito was injured.

Why? Why, Akihito thinks, shaking. Why is it since then? That night?

It's as if he's, _Asami_ is simply cut off from well, everything. His only contact bar the one international call in these past few days has been Akihito, and those have been just texts. It doesn't make any sense when Asami is a total workaholic. None of it makes any sense.

There's a small clatter from the bathroom, startling Akihito and he quickly clicks on the name he wants when he's scrolled down the page, typing Kirishima's number into his own phone. The fact that Asami even still has the mans number though does to some extent, give Akihito hope. It's entirely possible that Asami had taken some time off, ordered his men not to bother him during that time and Akihito is going to get in the shit for even thinking of bothering his men. But he can't help it. He sets Asami's phone down hastily and hobbles the fuck out of the bedroom just as he hears the water shut off, getting back to the living room and onto the sofa trying to act like his heart isn't racing and he isn't hyperventilating at the thought of going behind Asami's back, that he's even considering doing something like this.

As he hears the man make his way back to join him in the living room he hastily opens his beer, setting aside his phone for now until he knows he'll be alone again and so he can act like he's been here all the while. He sets the T.V to some drama, not paying attention in the slightest though as he sees Asami walking nonchalantly into the room, the man cool and composed as ever even just in a pair of joggers and with a small towel around his neck. Akihito finding it impossible to believe some stupid out of the blue text message when the real article, Asami - looks as unaffected as ever.

He settles for throwing a warm smile Asami's way, wincing as he slides down off the sofa to the coffee table to dish out some Sushi for each of them and to pass Asami his beer. A small 'kanpai' before they raise their drinks up to their lips.

**}xXx{**

Asami's fingers trace over the still healing scars on Akihito's legs. The deep one on in his right thigh, at the base of his left knee, the middle of his left calf. He places a kiss on each one, tracing his lips up to the soft flesh at Akihito's groin. Placing a kiss low on his belly and making his lover grumble, grabbing Asami's raven locks in hand to try and force his head down, down to where he had been teasing and blowing for far too long now.

The man had carried Akihito to the bed, hands cradling his ass as the boy held on tightly, kissing a trail from Asami's temple to lips and back up again the other side. He had laid the photographer down on their bed, Akihito protesting any further action with a stubborn request for his crutches on the basis that if he needs the toilet during the night he'd rather wet the bed than have Asami carry him to the bathroom. Surprisingly Asami had laughed at that, his eyes mirthful as he pecked his lover on the lips just making him pout more at not being taken seriously but he had gone, had collected them to set them by the bed when in his absence, Akihito had undressed and was waiting for him in the middle of the bed, sitting up with legs raised and apart. A rare, blushing show of invitation brought on by the three beers he had practically chugged.

The man continues to tease Akihito though, drinking in each and every delicious whine and gasp as he fondles the boy's balls, nipples, the secret sensitive patch of skin just under his ears - everywhere except for where he needs it most. Scratch that. The two places where he needs it most.

He whimpers for him, his lover and pushes himself down onto the one finger that's lingering at his entrance, the one he can feel that's already slicked and ready. He throws his head back in frustration as he tries again to reach his own hands down, to relieve some of the throbbing pressure coursing through his dick but he almost sobs to have them batted away. Asami shushing him before finally, fucking finally, swooping down to engulf his member and thrust in a finger without warning. Making Akihito scream.

They go for hours, this the first time in weeks that Asami could take Akihito until he's truly satisfied and the boy doesn't faint on him. He tucks him under the covers and tells him to rest after collecting a glass of water and setting it next to him, sliding Akihito's phone slightly out of the way. The display reading one in the morning.

Asami gets into bed, the lights shutting off soon after.

From there it's a waiting game for Akihito, fighting off his own exhaustion by pinching himself and blinking away the sleep furiously, his back to Asami but the photographer still listens out for any changes in his lovers breathing, trying to feel how the arm slung across his waist should further relax as the man sinks into unconsciousness. It's a matter of minutes before he feels it and he waits further still, until his left forearm is red and sore from the self inflicted abuse and he takes a long breath. Sliding out from under Asami's arm gingerly and pausing at the edge of the bed so he can arrange his crutches.

It's OK he tells himself, he's just going to the toilet.

Going to the toilet in the other end of the penthouse in the middle of the night to phone someone behind his lovers back.

With as careful steps as his body allow he finally gets to the guest bathroom, locking the door and sitting in the dark on the toilet lid with his crutches hanging off his arms while he searches for the contact he had saved into his phone earlier that night. His heart pounds as the phone finally starts to ring the other end. Anticipation making him almost giddy, apprehension making him feel violently sick.

Eight rings, he counts…eight long rings before the man finally picks up with a hesitant greeting.

"…Hello?"

"K-Kirishima-san? Uh, hey…." He can't help feeling relieved, not that he knows why. But the fact that Kirishima is alright settles something in Akihito. He knows he'll get his answers. "Um, are you alright to talk? Sorry I'm, calling so late…"

"No, no. Not at all….uh chotto…"

Akihito leans against the cistern trying to calm his heart as he hears movement on the other end of the line. Kirishima going down the corridor to his office in Sion and shutting the door firmly. Crossing the room into his private bathroom and running the water before he continues.

"Takaba-kun, why are you calling. Did something happen?"

Akihito's expression lightens a little, so nothing weird is happening at Sion? That's a relief, Asami must have just taken time off after all…he feels a little stupid as he spills the reason for his call.

"Um actually, I was hoping you could tell me that? Uh, if there's anything going on with Asami? I had a-uh, weird message earlier. From F-Fei Long… "

There's a quiet, muffled knock at the door and Akihito jumps out of his skin, not sure in his paranoid state whether the noise came from his end or Kirishima's. He looks fearfully at the bathroom door as he hears activity on the other end of the call. It going quiet before the man returns and whispers urgently into the receiver.

"Takaba-kun, Imamiya cafe tomorrow at three. Meet me if you can-"

And like that the line goes dead, the dial tone ringing out ominously into the cold, dark silence of the luxury bathroom. Dread slipping into every corner of Akihito's mind.


End file.
